In the Looking Glass
by FeliksLukasiewicz00
Summary: 2p: Stands for "Second Personality". A 2p is another version of a country that shows up in the mirror. Most 2p's are mentally twisted, but not all of them. The 2p can only be seen when the 1p country is alone, if someone else, human or country, was to enter the room the 2p would disappear. Rated T for swearing
1. Chapter 1

**The cover image is artwork drawn by "Nation Apocalypse". She's on Instagram, Tumblr, Pintrest, Flickr, Deviantart! Check out her stuff!**

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Chapter 1

Lovino and Flavio

Lovino threw open the door of his house and slammed it closed behind him. "He thinks he can tell me that _I'm_ not a country? Damn him!" Lovino stomped through the house, his footsteps echoing through the halls. Lovino slammed the door of his room and let out an angry sigh. "Assholes." He breathed, trying to calm himself.

Lovino began to rub his temples, cursing under his breath when he heard a knocking sound. He swung open his bedroom door. "It better not be that potato bastard, because I'm not in the fucking mood!" Lovino stormed down the hallway to the front door. "I swear to god, if it's him, I'll rip him to shreds!" He opened the front door to see nothing standing in front of him.

"You went the wrong way." An Italian voice cheered.

"Dammit." He hissed, glaring back down the hallway at the mirror.

"Come on, cheer up!" Flavio replied.

Lovino stomped back over and glared into the inaccurate reflection. "What do you want?"

Flavio tucked his light blonde behind his right ear. "I'm just wondering how you're doing."

"Fine. Now leave me alone!"

Flavio pulled a nail filer out of his pocket and began to file his nails. "I'm good, thanks for asking."

"I didn't ask."

"Now, Lovi, you don't have to be mean."

"Do _not_ call me 'Lovi'!" Lovino yelled, taking an angry step closer to Flavio.

"Why not? You're brother can, so why can't I?"

"No one is _allowed_ to call me 'Lovi', Feli just decides to." Lovino let out an angry sigh.

"Have a seat, let's chat for a little bit." Flavio ordered with a smile on his face.

Lovino spun around and began walking away. "No." He hissed over his shoulder at his other self. "I don't have time for this shit."

"Just talk to me. Please?"

"No."

Flavio sighed. "You seem mad, I just want to help."

Lovino stopped in his tracks, then stood completely still.

"Besides," Flavio began. "Who else do you have to talk to?"

Lovino quickly turned around and pointed at the imperfect image of himself. "What the hell do you mean by that?" Lovino growled through grit teeth.

Flavio's expression seemed to grow a bit scared. "I'm saying that your twin is always with Germany, and Spain and France are always with Prussia nowadays."

Lovino slowly and angrily made his way down the hall, still glaring at Flavio. "And?" He hissed.

"And you're alone all the time, and besides your family, you don't really associate with anyone else but me."

"No." Lovino pointed at the mirror. " _I_ don't associate with _you_ , _you_ associate with _me_."

Flavio shrugged. "Same thing."

Lovino rolled his eyes and turned around to walk away again.

"Don't leave. Talk to me."

Lovino spun around again, glaring at Flavio again. "The only reason you want to talk to me, is because you want someone to gossip with."

"Well, that too."

Lovino closed his eyes tightly. "What's the other reason?"

"You're stressed-"

"No shit!" Lovino yelled, interrupting Flavio and throwing his arms in the air.

"Tell me why you're stressed." Flavio ordered, gesturing to the ground with the pink nail filer in his right hand.

Lovino sighed, he knew that the only way to shut Flavio up was to either talk to him, or break the mirror. Lovino sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall beside the mirror, brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He turned his head to the left and looking at Flavio in the mirror, who was sitting on the "ground" cross legged. "So what's the gossip now?"

Flavio shook his head. "Tell me what's wrong first."

Lovino dipped his head. He really didn't want to talk about it. "My boss kicked me out of the meeting today."

"Why's that?"

"Because supposedly he needed to talk to Italy."

"But you're Italy."

Lovino looked back over at Flavio. "That's what I told him, but now Feli is Italy and I'm…"

"You're what?" Flavio's light pink eyes grew concerned.

"Don't know." Lovino shrugged, trying to act casual. He shook his head. "So what's the gossip at your place?"

Flavio gave Lovino a neutral, emotionless look, then his eyes lit up at the subject of gossip. "Well I hear that Luciano and Lutz got in another fight."

Lovino tilted his head to the right. "Really?"

"Yes. And Luci won… again." Flavio placed his nail filer back in his pocket, then adjusted his pink ascot.

"Don't they hate each other?" Lovino asked.

"Oh, yes. I don't see how Germany and North Italy from your world get along so well."

Lovino chuckled. "I don't see how either… That all the gossip you have?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear it."

"What else am I doing?"

Flavio shrugged. "I hear that Yang overdosed again. Complete accident though, but still."

Lovino thought hard for a moment. "Yang… He's your version of China, right?"

"Yep."

"And he overdosed? On what?"

"Um." Flavio ran his fingers through his light blonde hair. "I can't remember. Cocaine, maybe?"

Lovino chuckled and fell silent, waiting for Flavio to continue with his gossip.

"Also, Louis and Oliver, you know who they are right?"

"Yes, 2p France and 2p England, right?"

"Yes. Anyway, Louis and Oliver, did you know they're still in a relationship?"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Really? I would have thought different."

"Me too. That's exactly why I owe Yang fifteen dollars."

Lovino chuckled again, and Flavio went on from one topic to the next. Although Flavio was a very annoying, his gossip always seemed to calm Lovino's stress. Maybe it was the fact that it didn't affect him and his government, like everything else does in some way. Or maybe it was the fact that it was of a different, alternate world, and he was just happy his world wasn't as messed up as Flavio's. But whatever it was, Lovino just sat on the floor for hours, the clock spinning the time away, the shadows growing longer and darker on the walls, Lovino just kept listening and commenting. The mirror suddenly silenced, and the imperfect reflection of Lovino disappeared within seconds to the sound of Italy opening the door, then closing it quietly behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ludwig and Lutz

Ludwig strode to the other side of the room, holding a paper towel in his right hand, and furniture polish in his left. There was a blissful silence all around him due to his empty house. Prussia was with France and Spain, and Italy and Japan were at their own houses. The silence was tranquil.

"You work too much." The annoying familiar voice said, destroying Ludwig's peace.

"And you're too lazy!" Ludwig snapped, not bothering to look back at the mirror where his 2p stood.

"Whatever."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. He really didn't have the patience to deal with this right now. "Why are you here, Lutz?" Ludwig demanded.

"To bother you. I know how much you hate it when I bother you while you're cleaning."

"I thought you'd be too busy doing nothing, or kissing Luciano's ass so he doesn't kill you." Ludwig teased.

"Ha." Lutz pretended to laugh.

"What else do you want?" Ludwig growled.

"Nothing."

"So you're here to bother me and that's all?"

Lutz took a moment to ponder. "Ja." He finally answered.

Ludwig let out a long, annoyed sigh.

Lutz chuckled. "Mission complete."

"Good, now you can leave."

"Uh… no." Lutz said.

Ludwig glared back at him with his blue eyes blazing. "Why not?"

Lutz gave him a smug smile. "Too lazy. Don't feel like it."

Ludwig let out a loud sound of frustration. "And you weren't too lazy to come here? You had the motivation to appear in my mirror, why don't you have the motivation to leave?"

"Because your anger amuses me." Lutz stated. "And, I'd rather be here and deal with you, then be at home dealing with Luci."

"I thought no one was supposed to call him 'Luci'" Ludwig mumbled.

Lutz expression turned from an amused smile, to a terrified stare. "Don't tell him I called him that."

"I'll be sure to tell Italy to tell Luciano." Ludwig said over his shoulder.

"Hey, I know I annoy the _scheiße_ out of you, but do you really wish death on me? Because he'll kill me… Again!" Lutz exclaimed fearfully.

"Only if you leave me alone!" Ludwig snapped, turning around and glaring at his imperfect reflection.

Lutz was subconsciously outlining the scar on his left cheek. Ludwig narrowed his eyes as he stared at him.

"What?" Lutz snapped, dropping his hand.

Ludwig turned back around without a word, and continued his cleaning.

"What?" Lutz called.

 _Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away._ Ludwig thought.

"You're ignoring me?" Lutz asked. "Fine, I'll just sit here and stare you."

Ludwig just continued his cleaning, pretending his annoying counterpart wasn't behind him.

"Hey, Ludwig. Can I ask you something?"

The strange tone in his voice wasn't of what Ludwig was used to hearing from him. Usually it was an angry, tired, or teasing tone. Ludwig turned and looked at his reflection, who had recently pulled out and lit cigarette. "What?" Ludwig asked.

"Hey, you didn't go deaf!" Lutz cheered sarcastically. "My question's been answered."

Ludwig wanted to throw something at his mirror, but he didn't feel like buying a new one. Ludwig grit his teeth, turned around, and continued his cleaning.

"What? I don't at least get a response?" Lutz asked.

Ludwig shook his head.

"You're no fun." Lutz grumbled.

"You're right, I'm not. How about you bother some who is more fun."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Let me guess," Ludwig snarled, "you're too damn lazy."

"Good, job, Luddy!" Lutz teased.

"Do _not_ call me Luddy." Ludwig hissed.

"Or else what? You'll come in here and make me? Please, you can't get in here, just like we can't get out."

"I might be able to get England to teleport me in." Ludwig threatened.

Lutz smiled. "Please do so."

Ludwig was taken back by that answer. "Why?"

"Because Luciano has been wondering what your blood tastes like." Lutz replied insanely. "He wonders if it tastes like mine."

Ludwig gave his 2p a look of terror. "Nevermind." He replied, his voice jumping an octave.

Lutz began evilly cackling, so Ludwig turned around, and continued his cleaning, blocking out every sound his counterpart decided to make. Whether it was laughing, or it was him trying to start another conversation, Ludwig blocked out the sound.

Finally, the moment came when Prussia decided to come home, half drunk, and force Lutz out of the mirror, and back into his strange, sadistic dimension.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Yao and Yang

"Why must the world meetings always be so stressful?" Yao asked, entering his house right after the meeting. He dropped his suitcase on the floor, and plopped down on his couch. He was just about to fall asleep when he heard the annoying voice that sounds too much like his own.

"I think I could help you out!" Yang cheered in the mirror.

"Not you again." Yao moaned, rolling onto his back, trying to block out Yang's voice.

"No, I'm serious, I think I can hook you up with something."

"I'm not interested in your drugs!" Yao yelled.

Yang gave Yao a surprised look. "Why not? I have some really effective relaxants."

"You mean marijuana?" Yao snapped. "Not interested."

"Come on, Yao. I remember when we were close."

"We were never close." Yao mumbled.

"Yes we were!" Yang argued.

"Maybe that was some drug-induced dream of yours, because last I checked, we've always been on opposite sides of that mirror!" Yao yelled, sitting up and glaring at the inaccurate reflection on himself.

"Maybe," Yang began in a teasing tone, "your memory isn't what it used to be, because you're so old."

"You're the same age, too! And if anyone's memory is bad, it's yours! You are the one who's into acid!"

"I did have an acid trip flashback yesterday…" Yang mumbled.

Yao rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked away.

"Don't leave!" Yang called. "Please! I have no one to talk to in here!"

Yao ignored his counterpart, walked into his room, and laid down on his bed.

"Don't leave me!" Yang yelled, suddenly appearing in Yao's bedroom mirror.

"Dammit." Yao whispered under his breath.

"What?"

"I was hoping you'd just go back to your own world."

Yang forced himself to look innocent and adorable. "I don't have anyone to talk to in my own world."

"What about your sadistic version of Russia?" Yao snapped.

"Vladimir doesn't talk to anyone. Not even me." Yang whined.

"Poor you." Yao replied sarcastically.

Yang stared at Yao, expressionlessly.

"What?" Yao snapped.

"I'm all alone in here…"

"At least you can get some peace and quiet." Yao mumbled.

"But I want someone to talk to…"

Yao moaned, he didn't want to listen to Yang complain, again.

"Why do you think I take drugs? It's because I'm all alone with nobody to talk to…"

Yao sat up quickly. "Stop trying to guilt trip me! I know that's a lie!" Yao snapped. "You told me you take drugs because you love the effect they give you, not because you're lonely!"

"Damn, I really thought the guilt trip would work on you." Yang grumbled.

"You've already tried guilt tripping me before."

Yang tilted his head to the side. "I have?"

"And you say I have the bad memory." Yao murmured into his pillow. "Can you just leave me alone so I can sleep? I don't have the energy to deal with you right now."

"Why are you so tired?" Yang asked.

"Jetlag." Yao stated.

"Why jetlag?"

"Because I just came from a world meeting!" Yao yelled. "I already told you this. Do you pay attention at all?"

Yang shook his head. "Not really."

"Aiyaa." Yao breathed.

"What?"

"You know, you don't help me with my stress." Yao snapped.

Yang smiled. "Sorry, not sorry."

Yao let out a quiet grumble of frustration. "Just let me sleep. I'll deal with you in a couple of hours."

Yang gave Yao a disappointed look. "Fine."

Yao watched as his imperfect reflection slowly disappeared from his bedroom mirror and back into his twisted world.

"Thank you." He mumbled, turning over in his bed, and falling asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ivan and Vladimir

Ivan placed a recently dusted picture of his family back on his desk. His whole house had been cleaned and is now ready for the meeting with China over trade. Although he didn't have the Baltics to help him clean up his house due to their independence, he still managed to clean it in time. Ivan glanced up at the clock. He actually had time to spare, so he decided to walk around his house, and make sure he didn't miss anything.

"What are you doing?"

Ivan looked to his left as he passed the hallway mirror. "Oh, afternoon, Vladimir. How are you today?"

Vladimir continued his expressionless stare. "Fine."

Ivan smiled at his counterpart. "Well, I guess that's better than being bad. I'd love to chat, Vladimir, but I'm busy."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I didn't?"

Vladimir shook his head. "No. I asked what you were doing."

Ivan glanced around the hallway. "Cleaning my house." He said, making it sound obvious.

Vladimir narrowed his blood red eyes. "Why?"

"Because my friend, China, is headed over for a meeting."

"Wait, your what is headed over?"

Ivan looked behind himself, then back to his reflection that wore a black, torn coat and a blood stained scarf. "My friend, China."

Vladimir closed his eyes and shook his head with a small amused smile. "Wow. You're even more ignorant than I thought."

Ivan tilted his head to the side, drawing his eyebrows together. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean by that."

"When have you ever understood?" Ivan's counterpart snapped.

"What?"

"Ivan, you don't understand your position at all, do you?"

"My… position?"

Vladimir's slight smile faded. "Once, I heard you talking about your dream. 'To live in a warm place with sunflowers', right?"

Ivan nodded slowly.

"You don't understand, but that will _never happen_."

Ivan stiffened. "You don't know that."

"I don't?" Vladimir hissed. "You live in the coldest, most barren wasteland that you call a home. And yet you still think you can find warmth."

"I can. All I have to do is-"

"Conquer someone who has a warmer home?" Vladimir snapped, interrupting Ivan.

"No, I wasn't going to say that." Ivan said, shaking his head.

"But what else would you do?" Ivan's 2p asked. "It's not like you can find warmth _here_."

"Well," Ivan started, "I know that by now."

"Then what else would you do to get your precious warmth?"

Ivan looked at the ground, thinking. "I…" Ivan trailed off.

"You what?"

Ivan closed his eyes. "I don't know."

"When have you ever?" Vladimir grumbled.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Earlier, you said that China was your friend, is that true?"

Ivan nodded slowly. "Da."

"Really? Would China say the same?" Vladimir snapped.

Ivan took a step back, he wanted to leave this conversation.

"Answer the question, Ivan." His flawed reflection ordered.

"Da?"

"Is that a statement, or a hopeful guess?"

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "Where are you going with this?"

"China wouldn't say that, because he isn't. No one would say that they're your friend, because they're not. You don't have friends, Ivan. You're alone, just like you've always been."

Ivan shook his head. "No, that's not true."

Vladimir rolled his eyes. "You're such a child."

Ivan narrowed his eyes, anger filling him. "What do you mean by that?" He hissed.

"What I mean is that you surround yourself with these lies, just to make yourself feel good. And when someone tells you differently, you don't believe them, because you don't want to face the truth of what you really are."

"What am I?" Ivan yelled.

Vladimir's pitiful smile returned. "Evil."

"No." Ivan mumbled. "I'm not evil."

"Really? Then explain Lithuania's scars."

Ivan's eyes widened. "I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't mean to hurt him."

Ivan's twisted, faulty reflection's smile grew larger. "But you did. And it _broke_ him."

"I didn't mean to…"

"Or what about all the other lives you've ended? All the other countries you've tortured? What about them? How would you explain that?"

Ivan closed his eyes tightly, he couldn't look at this mirror anymore. "I didn't mean to."

"You're right!" The mirror shouted back. "You didn't! But you're just so damn crazy, you can't control yourself anymore! You've never been able to control yourself! But you got your wish, right? You wanted to be powerful! To be feared! You got your wish! Why aren't you happy?"

Ivan's eyes snapped open. "Because I didn't know! I didn't know what being feared would do to me! I was just tired of being bullied! I didn't know!" Tears began rolling down Ivan's face.

Vladimir narrowed his eyes, dropping his smile. "When have you ever known?"

Ivan turned his back on the reflection that wasn't his and walked away. He didn't want to answer that question, because he knew the answer. But for some odd reason, he did. "Never." He mumbled, turning the corner, and walking to the front door with a piece of paper and a piece of tape. He taped the note to his front door:

 _I'm sorry, China. The meeting's canceled. Please don't be too mad. Will next week work for you?_

 _-Russia_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Feliciano and Luciano

Feliciano walked down the hallway, humming to the tune of the radio. He disliked being alone, but it was a nice summer day, and he just wanted to lay in the sun and listen to the radio, but he had to go to training.

"Oh, Feli!" A voice sang from down the hallway.

Feliciano stopped in his tracks and slowly turned his head in the direction of the familiar voice. "Afternoon, Luci." Feliciano cheered, walking slowly down the hall to the large mirror that hung on a single nail.

Luciano narrowed his eyes from inside the mirror. "Do _not_ call me Luci." The reflection hissed.

"There's nothing you can really do about it," Feliciano mumbled, "I mean, you're in the mirror and I'm-"

Luciano slammed himself against the glass, making it shake. He deviously smiled at Feliciano, holding a bloodstained switchblade in his right hand.

"Nevermind, Luciano, I'm sorry." Feliciano apologised, flinching in fear.

Luciano laughed, backing away from the mirror. "You're too easy to scare." He chuckled.

Feliciano took a step away from his sadistic counterpart. "Uh, I'd love to chat, Luci-ano, but I really have to go to training."

Luciano narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Feliciano drew his eyebrows together. "Well, because Germany is teaching me how to-"

"How about this," Luciano started, cutting Feliciano off, "you teach Germany something for once."

"I tried to teach him to how cook pasta, but he didn't want to. Also I tried to teach him how to make-"

"Not food you idiot." Luciano interrupted, slapping his hand onto his forehead.

"What else would I teach him?" Feliciano asked.

The imperfect reflection smiled. "A lesson."

"A lesson?" Feliciano asked, raising an eyebrow.

Luciano began cleaning under his fingernails with his switchblade. "Yeah. You know, something that'll tell him to fuck off, and that you can take care of yourself."

Feliciano didn't want to ask this question, be he said it anyway. "How?"

"Put some razorblades in his food or something." Luciano said on impulse. "Oh, I know! You go to training, listen and pay attention to Germany's lesson, and right when he tells you to run laps, I want you to take that pistol off his belt, and put some lead in the foot. Then _you_ tell _him_ to run laps."

"Oh _mio Dio!_ " Feliciano exclaimed. "I don't want to hurt him, he's my friend!"

Luciano rolled his eyes. "You don't know how to have any fun, do you?"

Feliciano took a step back from the mirror. "Shooting people in the feet isn't fun. Playing football, or swimming in the ocean is fun."

Feliciano's 2p narrowed his eyes. "Whatever."

"I should really get going, though." Feliciano said, trying to excuse himself. It didn't work.

"Why? So that bastard can tell you what to do all day long?" Luciano asked.

Feliciano shifted his weight to his left side. "You and Romano would really get along, you know that?"

Luciano leaned against the frame of the mirror. "Yes, I do, but I'm stuck with talking to a cowardly counterpart, or the assholes from my own world."

"Sorry?" Feliciano asked.

"Not your fault." Luciano stated, putting the switchblade back into his pocket. "You didn't lock us in here."

Feliciano raised an eyebrow. "Who did? I forgot."

"Who the hell do you think?"

Feliciano pondered. "England?"

"Close, Scotland." The reflection stated.

Feliciano nodded. "Oh yeah. Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Luciano grumbled.

"But-"

"Drop it!" Feliciano's purple-eyed reflection yelled, baring back his teeth almost as if he was trying to show off a set of fangs.

Feliciano stood there awkwardly, staring at the angry, sadistic 2p in his mirror. He had to leave so Germany wouldn't get angry at him, but he was also afraid of leaving, because knowing Luciano, he'd figure a way out of the mirror. So he stared at the glass that showed an inaccurate reflection of the auburn-haired Italian.

Luciano half turned away, looking down at a ground that Feliciano couldn't see with his eyes closed. "Go. You don't want to be late for training." Luciano muttered in monotone, waving Feliciano away.

Feliciano remembered how sometimes his counterpart would talk with him when he was scared, or when he was lonely, so he decided that he would want to do the same. "Are you sure?"

"Germany will get mad if you don't show up on time." Luciano said.

"But you seem sad, I want to help."

"Listen, Feli," Luciano started, looking up at his 1p, "unlike you, I like my personal space, and actually would prefer to be alone. Kind of like your brother, I don't share my feelings nor do I share my problems. So go to training."

"But you didn't want me to go." Feliciano objected.

Giving Feliciano one last eye roll, Luciano faded from the mirror. Feliciano's accurate reflection replaced the imperfect one.

Feliciano stepped forward, closer to the glass. "Come on, Luci, talk to me." He begged, knocking on the mirror's glass with his right hand. "Please, Luci, I want to help." Feliciano stopped knocking on the mirror. "I don't have to go to training today, Germany will be mad, but he won't hurt me, he'll only scold me. Come on, Luci." Feliciano closed his simple brown eyes with a sigh. "Well, I'm going to go, but I'll be back in a few hours if you want to talk then… _arrivederci,_ Luci." Feliciano turned on his heel and walked down the hall, looking over his shoulder to only see himself in his mirror.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Kiku and Kuro

Kiku kneeled down at his low table, setting a pot of his favorite type of green tea on its wood. He held the cup up to his lips, sipping at the warm, delicious liquid. Today was peaceful. The flowers were blooming as his favorite time of year, spring, was starting. The day was warm with a wonderful breeze to match it. The sky was blue with large, white, puffy clouds in the sky. Today was peaceful.

Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw his reflection. Kiku looked to it again, realizing that instead of seeing tranquil brown eyes, he saw disturbed red ones. In his mirror was Kuro. Kiku then realized that Kuro had probably been sitting there for a while, staring at him. Kiku glanced to him again, his body tensing with nervousness.

" _Kon'nichiwa,_ Kuro." Kiku greeted kindly.

But Kuro didn't reply.

It was then when it hit Kiku. Kuro didn't feel like talking, nor did he feel like being talked to. It was one of _those_ days for him. Instead of trying to speak to his counterpart again, Kiku smiled warmly and returned to his tea.

The Japanese counterparts had known each other for a very long time, from way before Kuro was shoved into an alternate world to where they can only speak through a mirror. Kiku is one of the oldest countries on the planet, and so was Kuro. Although they've been on opposite sides of a mirror for centuries, they've always come to one another for help.

Throughout history, Kuro has shown up in Kiku's mirror, crying and begging for some kind of help. And so has Kiku. Kiku has furiously knocked on his mirror, yelling at Kuro to appear, just so he can scream in his face, just so he can vent. Kuro has done the same. These counterparts have been together for all of history, whether or not it was in the same world.

But today, Kuro didn't feel like talking. So Kiku respected that. Kuro wanted to just sit in his mirror, with his back to his own dark and twisted world, and staring into a brighter, happier one. Kiku decided to give his counterpart his space and allow him to just sit peacefully. Today Kuro didn't want to be alone, but he also didn't want to talk. Kiku stood and walked to the other side of his table to where he could soo Kuro clearly, just in case he did say something.

Kiku gave a small, comforting smile to Kuro, who stayed in his mirror with no change to his expression. But that was okay. Kiku didn't mind.

* * *

 **I'm really sorry for the super-long wait! I was dealing with tons of writers block with my stories, but I hoped you liked this chapter.**

 **In this chapter you see Kiku and Kuro's relationship. Although it was short, I hope it got the point across.**

 **~Feliks out!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Gilbert and Gilen

Gilbert let out a groan as he entered his house. It was late, two in the morning, all because Francis and Antonio, not that Gilbert was complaining. Ludwig was probably in bed, so he walked quietly through the house, making sure he didn't wake up his little brother. Gilbert jumped as he saw something move in the corner of his eye, and he grabbed the nearest lamp from off the side table, holding it in an aggressive manner. "Show yourself!" Gilbert demanded.

"Calm down, it's just me."

Gilbert let out a heavy sigh, placing the lamp back on the table and turning it on so he could see his reflection with long hair. "Gilen, you really know how to scare the shit out of me."

Gilen tilted his head slightly. "Sorry?"

"So, what's new?" Gilbert asked, trying to make conversation with his awkward counterpart.

"Nothing." Gilen stated.

"Nothing?" Gilbert echoed, "Come on, Gilen, there has to be something."

Gilen blinked at him.

Gilbert rubbed his red eyes. "Nothing at all? You've just been standing there, waiting for me to come home at two in the morning and scare the hell out of me?"

"Nothing's new." Gilen repeated in monotone.

"Well, nothing happening is better than something bad happening, I guess." Gilbert said awkwardly.

"Why are you home so late?" Gilen questioned.

Gilbert chuckled. "Since when do you worry?"

The inaccurate reflection stared at Gilbert.

"I was hanging out with France and Spain." Gilbert replied.

The long haired albino nodded.

"Well," Gilbert started with a yawn, "I think I'm going to bed, it's pretty late."

"Wait." Gilen demanded.

That took Gilbert by surprise. Usually Gilen didn't really care about talking to others, especially someone as annoying as Gilbert could be, so he was quite confused. " _Ja?_ "

"I have a strange question for you." Gilen explained.

"Okay. Go ahead and ask."

"Why aren't you religious?"

Out of all questions to ask at two in the morning, he had to choose this one? Gilbert groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I don't really know."

"Why aren't you religious?" Gilen repeated.

Gilbert sighed. "I said I don't know."

"Why aren't you religious?"

"I swear, Gilen…" Gilbert trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why aren't you religious?"

Gilbert yawned. "Can I answer this in the morning? I'm tired."

" _Nein._ "

Gilbert let out a sound of frustration. "You were raised more religious, I was raised more barbaric." He answered.

"That's it?"

" _Ja._ I've got a question for you, why _are_ you religious." Gilbert counter-questioned.

"Because I believe in God."

"Why?"

Gilen narrowed his eyes. "Don't turn into a five year old on me, Gilbert."

Gilbert sighed. "Don't tell me that you're going to stand there and convert me at two in the morning."

"It's innocent curiosity." Gilen stated.

"Well, Gilen, I gave you my answer. There you go." Gilbert said while yawning.

Gilen turned half way from the mirror quickly. "Goodnight, Gilbert."

The short haired albino raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

"You're tired. Go to sleep. Goodnight." He disappeared from the mirror.

Gilbert stared into the now dark mirror with narrowed eyes. Gilen was off, but it was probably just a bad day and he just wanted to have an innocent conversation. Gilbert shrugged before turning off the lamp and going to bed. He would talk to Gilen in the morning.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Francis and Louis

Francis hummed the tune of the radio as he walked through his house, getting ready for the day. He held a warm cup of coffee as he entered his living room with a yawn.

"Morning."

Francis stopped his humming and turned his head to Louis, who stood in the mirror. "Well I was in a good mood."

"Oh, thanks," Louis grumbled, "that really helps my self esteem. Maybe I should just go and kill myself."

"I was just kidding, Louis." Francis said, "I'm sorry."

Louis blinked, lighting a cigarette without even looking. "I know."

Francis took a sip of his coffee. "So how have you been?"

Louis groaned.

"Well, why else did you come, if you didn't want to talk?" Francis asked.

Louis took a long breath off his cigarette without a word.

"How are you?" Francis questioned.

"Depressed."

Francis tilted his head. "Why?"

Louis shrugged.

"There has to be a reason." Francis stated before taking another sip of his coffee.

The imperfect image stared at him before taking a long drag off his cigarette, exhaled, and finally answered. "I'm your opposite. You're always happy. I'm always sad."

A kind smile appeared on Francis' face. "Well, then I'll cry more, so you can smile more."

"Wow, that was the sappiest thing you've ever said to me." Louis complained, "I'm going to go throw up now, I'll be right back." He said, pointing into the darkness behind him.

"Louis," Francis said, "was it really _that_ sappy?"

Francis' counterpart nodded while inhaling smoke from his cigarette.

"Right, I'm supposed to cut down the sappiness around you. I forgot."

Louis raised an eyebrow. "Forgot? How long have we known each other?"

Francis shrugged. "From before you were in the mirror."

Louis nodded. "Exactly. You shouldn't forget by now."

"I promise I won't forget." Francis replied.

Louis rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Francis turned and sat down in a comfortable chair that wasn't too far from his counterpart. He could still easily see Louis, who had dropped his cigarette, stomped it out, and lit another one. "How many of those do you have per day?" Francis asked.

Louis narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Francis shrugged. "No reason, I'm just wondering."

"A pack a day." The inaccurate image said.

Surprise appeared Francis' face.

"Hey, you can't judge," Louis snapped, "you used to smoke."

"But I don't anymore."

"It's not like it's going to kill me!" Louis exclaimed, "I can't fucking die!"

Francis gave Louis a worried look, but said nothing.

"What?" His reflection hissed.

Francis smiled at Louis. "Nothing."

"No, what?" Louis demanded.

Francis took a long sip of coffee. "I know how you feel, Louis. The eternal life thing frustrates me too."

"I know," Louis paused to breathe in smoke, "you've shown up crying about it."

Francis looked down to the ground. That was true. Although many would think differently, he and Louis got along, and actually connected on many levels; it was their outlook on life that was so different. Francis drank more of his coffee. "So what's going on over there?"

"Why don't you talk to Flavio about?" Louis grumbled, "I don't like gossip."

Francis leaned forward slightly. "I can't talk to Flavio. I can only talk to you."

"Sorry."

"That's not a bad thing," Francis reassured, "trust me."

Louis took a drag off his cigarette.

"So what's going on over there?" Francis asked again.

Louis groaned. "Nothing new. Violence, arguments, and so on."

Francis smiled. "How are you and Oliver?"

Louis' eyes widened in surprise, before his expression turned into anger. "That is none of your business!" He hissed, pointing.

Francis raised his left hand in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'm sorry."

Louis stomped out another cigarette, his face fading into a neutral expression. "How's everything over there?"

Francis shrugged. "Political arguments with England, mainly. Nothing much, though."

"How's your government?"

A strange question. "What? You care about it?"

"Well, if it falls, you die." Louis stated bluntly.

"And you care about that?" Francis teased.

"You know I do." Louis stated firmly.

Francis smiled. "I was kidding. My government's fine."

"Good. We don't want another incident like during the Fren-" Louis disappeared from the mirror as Francis' door opened.

Francis turned his head to the guard who entered. "What?" Francis asked.

"Your boss arranged a meeting."

Francis narrowed his eyebrows. "The meeting was supposed to be in three days."

"He's busy then."

Francis rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm busy now!"

"He said you need to come."

Francis closed his eyes. The word "need" made it an order, which meant he had to follow it. Francis sighed, standing up, swallowing the rest of his coffee, and passing by the mirror. "See you around, Louis. I'll talk to you again, later."

* * *

 **The line "Well, then I'll cry more, so you can smile more." is based off of a personal headcanon of mine:** France cries easily because he wants Louis to be happy, not because he's weak/more open about his feelings of sadness. France has no idea whether or not this works.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Alfred and Allen

Alfred, who stood in his bathroom brushing his teeth, spit the last remnants of toothpaste into the sink and washed it down the drain. With it being eleven in the morning, Alfred got a great night of sleep, although he wished it wasn't over yet. He poured a small amount of mouthwash into a cup and began to swish it in his mouth. He noticed something on his mirror, so he leaned in close, narrowing his eyes at what he saw.

"BOO!" Allen yelled, appearing in the mirror suddenly.

Alfred spit some mouthwash on the mirror, as some went up his nose.

Allen began laughing. "Morning, Porkchop."

Alfred groaned, rubbing the sides of his nose. "Aw, man! Some went up my nose!" He exclaimed.

Allen smiled deviously with a chuckle.

"Why do you do things like this to me?" Alfred mumbled under his breath.

"'Cause I can." Alfred's reflection answered.

"You're an ass."

Allen smiled larger. "Thanks for the compliment."

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't a compliment."

"Out of all the things I've been called by Matt, that's a compliment." Allen explained in his annoying New York accent.

Alfred grinned. "What kind of things does he call you?"

Allen shook his head. "I ain't telling you."

"Why not?" Alfred pouted.

"'Cause you'll just use them against me."

"What if I promise I won't?"

"You'll still use them against me." The inaccurate reflection replied, "I know you way too well, dude."

"But if you're the asshole, then that means I'm the nice guy." Alfred argued.

Allen laughed. "Sure, whatever."

"So, _vegetarian_ , what brings you here?"

Allen narrowed his eyes threateningly. "Don't say vegetarian like it's a disease!"

Alfred crossed his arms stubbornly. "It is a disease."

Allen rolled his red eyes. "I just wanted to mess with you."

The blonde American smiled. "No, you're bored."

"Well, I do like scaring the shit out of you."

"You're bored," Alfred restated, "so you came to me."

"To give you a heart attack. Unfortunately, it didn't work." Allen smiled evilly.

Alfred rolled his blue eyes. "Sure, whatever. But do you know what I think?"

"Humor me." Allen replied.

"I think, that you actually don't hate me, and when you get sick of the madness in your world, you come and talk to me." Alfred explained.

Allen stood there, staring at his 1p for a long time, until he finally shook his head with a chuckle. "No, I come and talk because…"

"Because you haven't come up with a lie yet?" Alfred asked with a teasing grin.

Allen looked away. "Shut up."

Alfred tilted his head to the side. "It's fine, bro. I don't think I'd keep my sanity in your world. I don't see how you're still sane."

"Yeah… Sane…" Allen whispered.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

The brown haired reflection shook his head. "Nothing."

"But I didn't hear you." Alfred replied.

"It's nothing, Porkchop."

"Why must you always call me 'Porkchop'?" Alfred exclaimed.

Allen smiled. "'Cause you're a Porkchop."

Alfred groaned in annoyance. "Whatever." He looked over when he heard Tony saying something from the other room. "What?" He called out.

Tony repeated himself.

Alfred groaned again. "Why?" He yelled back to the alien.

Tony answered.

"Oh crap! Really?"

"What?" Allen asked.

Alfred turned back to his reflection. "It's Mattie's birthday, I need to call him, I almost forgot."

"Well, you'd better do that." Allen said.

"Yeah, sorry, dude. Talk to ya later?" Alfred asked.

Allen narrowed his eyes. "Why? I hate you."

Alfred rolled his blue eyes. "Sure, whatever."

"I _might_ come back. I'm going to call Matt, although he probably doesn't want to talk to me." Allen explained.

"Alright, well I gotta go." Alfred said, pointing behind himself with his right thumb.

"Alright, see ya."

"See ya." Alfred replied, turning and leaving the room as Allen disappeared from the mirror.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Arthur and Oliver

Today was a bad day, to be completely honest. Arthur got in an argument with both America and France in the same day. And today of all days. July 4th. Like this month wasn't bad enough for Arthur, he had to get in a fist-fight with Ireland, and have a yelling match with Scotland about his independence.

So, on such a bad day, Arthur was sitting at his desk, drinking his rum, which was what Arthur drank when he _needed_ to get drunk. He hadn't been drinking long, he wasn't even slightly buzzed, so, of course, Arthur had to keep drinking because he had to get drunk. He groaned, knowing that he'd have to deal with this hangover for more than a couple days.

"Already breaking out the rum?" Arthur heard from down the hall.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the sound of Oliver's sarcasm. "Ollie, leave me alone." He grumbled, glaring over at the cheerful reflection.

Oliver shrugged. "Hey, it's three o'clock somewhere, right?"

"I'm not in the mood for your sarcasm." Arthur groaned, looking away.

"Today was supposed to be tea day!" Oliver exclaimed.

Arthur rolled his eyes again. "Well, I guess we'll have to reschedule."

Oliver was silent on the other side of the mirror, which made Arthur slightly curious. He turned back to the mirror, looking at Oliver who was staring at him with a blank expression. "What?" Arthur exclaimed.

"You know I'm serious about tea."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You know that this month is the bad for me."

Oliver's eyes softened. "It's bad for me, too."

Arthur looked down to his desk, guilt filling him. He was being selfish, Oliver had also lost his little brothers and past colonies, even if he never did any fighting in war. Oliver still came to the mirror crying when he lost his versions of America, Canada, Hong Kong, and all of his other colonies. They cried together, and comforted each other, and now Arthur was just being rude and selfish. But he _needed_ to get drunk.

"I'll come sit with you, but I'm still drinking." Arthur stated firmly.

Oliver smiled, drumming his fingers on the half tabled that rested against the mirror. Both Arthur and Oliver had cut a table in half and placed it against the mirror, so when they'd sit down and drink a pot of tea, it almost felt like they were in the same world again.

Arthur stood, grabbing his bottle of rum and placing it on the table. "You know what, I'll even get a glass so I'm civil."

Oliver nodded. "Thank you."

Arthur sat down in the seat in front of his half-table, and filled up the glass with rum.

"So, how are you?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "How am I?" He took a drink of rum, "I think they explains it pretty well."

"Well, it's the fourth for me too, but you don't see me getting myself drunk." Oliver protested.

Arthur shook his head. "That's because you hate alcohol."

"I don't hate it, I dislike it." Oliver countered.

"Right," Arthur replied, "didn't Louis take you out drinking once?"

Oliver took a sip of tea. "Yes." He mumbled sheepishly.

Arthur smiled. "Didn't you get yourself drunk?"

"I only had two glasses!" Oliver yelled.

Arthur laughed. "Oh, Ollie, you have worse tolerance than I do."

Oliver blushed slightly. "The reason I don't drink is because I can get 'kind of aggressive', as Louis put it."

"Doesn't surprise me." Arthur mumbled, taking a swig off of his drink as Oliver took a long sip of his tea.

"The tea's spiked, isn't it?" Arthur teased.

"What? No! I wouldn't ruin tea like that!" Oliver asserted.

"Good point." Arthur shrugged, "Well, you know how I am, how are you?"

Oliver took a minute, looking at the ceiling as he thought. "I'm okay, I guess. I mean, my brothers are happier now that they're alone, so I can only be so sad…" He explained, although he visibly deflated.

Arthur's eyes softened. Oliver was always one to tell Arthur that he was fine, so he could comfort him. Oliver usually looked for comfort through his cupcakes, or, occasionally, Louis would give him a shoulder to cry on. "Ollie," Arthur said soothingly, "if you're not okay, you can tell me."

Oliver beamed a smile. "No, Arthur, I'm fine. I'm happy for everyone, just a little…"

"Lonely?" Arthur finished.

"...Yeah…" Oliver mumbled.

Arthur straightened his posture, took a sip of rum, and set it gently on the table. "Who doesn't get a little lonely every now and then, right?" He reassured, trying to be the cheerful one for once.

Oliver shrugged. "You're right."

Arthur swallowed the rest of his rum, and filled the glass again, Oliver doing the same with his tea. Arthur lifted the glass in the air. "A toast, to our past colonies."

"To our past colonies." Arthur's reflection echoed, lifting his cup in the air.

They both drank their beverages, in the name of their colonies, Arthur chugging down the whole glass and needing to refill it. Most of the day went like this, Oliver eventually talked Arthur into putting the rum away, making Oliver the only man to be able to talk the rum away from Arthur, who was half-drunk by the end of the day. Although the month of July was hard, it was nice to laugh it off with the only man who could understand his pain.

Arthur went to bed that night, dreading the headache he knew he'd wake up with.

* * *

 **This was a little shorter than I thought it would be, but I think it came out nice. The wait was long, but the chapters for this story usually take a while to post. Anyway, it's close to Christmas, so Merry Christmas!**

 **~Feliks Out! (^J^)**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Matthew and Matt

"God dammit, I'm so pissed off!" Matthew heard in the mirror in the other room.

Matthew stood from his seat in the dining room, and walked into his living room, knowing that Matt needed to vent on someone. "Who angered you this time?" He asked.

Matt was rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It doesn't matter, why would you want to listen to me complain anyway?"

"You know I care." Matthew reminded. "What's wrong?"

Matt crossed his arms with a huff. "So many things."

"Like?" Matthew prompted.

"You really know how to pry." Matt grumbled.

"I'm sorry." Matthew apologised, delivering a kind smile to his counterpart.

"No you're not!" Matt exclaimed, "Stop it with those insincere apologies!"

Matthew held up his hands in surrender. "They're not insincere, I promise."

Although he was wearing his sunglasses, Matthew was pretty sure that his counterpart rolled his eyes at him. "Whatever." Matt responded.

"What's wrong, Matt?" Matthew questioned.

"Who would've thought we both had the trait of stubbornness." Matt mumbled to himself, although Matthew heard him.

"If you didn't want to talk about it, then why'd you show up in my mirror saying 'God dammit, I'm so pissed off?'" Matthew argued.

"Fine, fine." Matt said, taking off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of lavender eyes, much like Matthew's.

"What's wrong?" Matthew repeated.

Matt groaned again. "I'm really getting sick of this world. The madness of it all."

Matthew gave Matt a kind look. "What do you mean?"

"We usually get along, but every now and then it can be like a warzone in here."

Matthew glanced away as he thought back to his memories of war, then he looked back to Matt. "I doubt that it gets that bad in there."

Matt rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant!"

"Sorry, continue."

Matt sighed. "Just today, for instance, Allen was being a total hoser just because I called him a vegetarian."

"Well, when you call him a vegetarian, it's usually an insult." Matthew reminded.

Matt narrowed his purple eyes. "Hey, fuck you," He said, pointing, "I came here to vent, not get in another argument."

The aggression in Matt's voice made his reply sound almost serious, but Matthew knew that he was just angry. "Anyway… " Matthew said, getting Matt back on track.

"Anyway," Matt echoed, "Lutz was being lazy, and Oliver wouldn't stop nagging Allen, which pissed Allen off, so he took it out on me."

Matthew adjusted his glasses. "Did he attack you?"

"He's lucky he didn't, I wasn't in the mood for his shit."

"Have you ever been in the mood for his shit?" Matthew asked.

Matt narrowed his eyes at Matthew.

Matthew shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Matt grumbled.

Matthew smiled. "It's sympathy, I'm being sympathetic."

Matt huffed and didn't reply.

Matthew raised and drew his eyebrows together. "What else it wrong?"

Matt sighed. "So many things."

"Like...?"

"You're prying again." Matt stated.

Matthew sighed. "I just want to help."

"If you want to help, all you need to do is get me out of this hellhole."

"It-"

"Why does my world have to be so difficult?" Matt exclaimed, cutting Matthew off, "I mean, I get it, we don't have wars in here, but why does it have to be so sadistic? Hell, we never even see the sun here! It's either night or cloudy!"

"Matt, calm down," Matthew stated in a kind voice, "you'll get out of there someday."

Matt scoffed. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

"I mean it!" Matthew argued, "I've heard some rumors about England."

"Which one?"

"My England." Matthew answered.

"What about him?" Matt asked, slight curiosity in his voice.

"I heard that he's been looking for a reverse-spell, to get out you of there." Matthew explained.

Matt raised an eyebrow as more curiosity sparked in his eyes. "What else?"

Matthew shrugged. "They're only rumors, but I know for a fact that England truly believes that you guys shouldn't be in there."

Some peace came to Matt's neutral face. "I really hope those rumors are true."

* * *

 **The End…?**

 **Hey guys, that's the end of my story, BUT THERE WILL BE A SEQUEL!**

 **Anyways, I hope you liked this story, and thank you all so much for sticking with me this whole time, even though I updated this story so slowly. I'm sorry that this chapter was so short, when I thought of it, it was much longer. Also: HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

 **Thank you for all of the favorites, follows and comments, they are very much appreciated!**

 **~Feliks Out! (^J^)**


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